Monkee in the Middle
by PlushChrome
Summary: Davy and Mike get involved in a street brawl, causing a black eye for Davy and feelings of guilt for Mike. Rated K plus for mild violence.


"Mike!" Davy called, running after his tall friend. "Mike, wait up!" Mike turned around and waited for Davy to catch up before he turned and continued walking. "Hey, Davy!" He said. "I thought you were going to take Della out for dinner tonight. What'cha doin' here?"

Davy shrugged. "Della's cousin came by unexpectedly, so we rescheduled for tomorrow night. What are _you_ doing out so late?" Mike looked up at a sign over their heads and nodded toward the building. "I'm signin' us up for a contest. Winner gets a chance to perform a song on the local radio station."

Davy smiled. "That's great!" He said. "What kind of contest is it?" "I'm not sure," Mike admitted as they walked into the building. "I think we have to perform in front of a panel of judges."

"Hello, gentlemen, can I help you?" The speaker was a pretty young girl sitting behind a desk, looking up at the two of them pleasantly. "Yes, please, miss, I'd like to sign up my band for your contest," Mike said.

The girl smiled. "Alright then," she said. "I need to you to answer a few questions, and I can get you all signed up." She picked up a pencil and a piece of paper and looked up at Mike.

"First question: What's the name of your band?" "The Monkees, spelled with two e's instead of a y," Mike answered. She wrote something down on the paper.

"Second question: how many in your group?" "Four," Mike said. She scribbled on the paper.

"Third question: By what phone number can we reach you?" Mike gave her their phone number. She wrote it down.

"Fourth question: where do you live?" "1334 North Beechwood Blvd. In Malibu, California." She wrote it down on the piece of paper.

"Fifth and final question: Do you have a girlfriend." "I- What!?" Mike looked at her, eyes wide as Davy began to snicker behind him. The girl smiled. "I asked if you had a girlfriend," she repeated. Mike was flustered. "Well, I- uh, what, what does this have to do with the contest?"

"Nothing, I admit." The girl folded the piece of paper and put it in a drawer with several other entry forms. "I just wanted to know. A handsome fella like you has to have a girlfriend, right?" Mike shifted his weight. "Well, uh, I guess- I mean, I suppose so, but I- I don't, ahem, I don't have a- have a girlfriend..." He got quieter as he continued to ramble, and he muttered the final words almost unintelligibly, getting red in the face and looking down at his fingers.

"What he means to say is," Davy interrupted, leaning past Mike and grinning jovially. "Is that he doesn't have a girlfriend, and he would love to take you out to dinner sometime."

"Davy!" Mike said in a frustrated whisper. "What are you doing!?" Davy smiled. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He said. "I'm getting you a date!" The girl laughed at the exchange.

"If he doesn't want to date me," she said. "He doesn't have to date me." She looked at Mike, who seemed to be completely speechless. "So how about it?" She said. "Do you want to date me or not?"

Mike cleared his throat and looked at the girl. "Well, I, I guess if... if you really want to, we could go out for- for a soda or something sometime." The girl smiled. "Great," she said. "It's a date!" She laughed as someone else came in, and she turned to them. "Yeah, can I help you?" She asked.

Mike and Davy left the building, Mike breathing deeply as if he had been suffocating inside, and Davy laughing at the look on his friends face. "Come on, man!" He said. "That was amazing! She really liked you, man!" Mike couldn't help but smile, though he did his best to conceal it and succeeded in keeping it a half smile. "Well, you can't get all the girls, Davy," he said.

They began to walk toward the pad, but the girl came running out of the building just then. "Wait!" she called. Mike and Davy stopped. "She caught up to them and looked at Mike, smiling. "I forgot to find out what your name was," She said. "That is, unless you're name is actually Monkee." Mike laughed. "No no," he said. "My name's Mike, Mike Nesmith." The girl smiled. "Nice to meet you, Mike," she said. "My name's Sarah Thomas. What time do you want me to meet you tomorrow?" Mike smiled nervously.

"Oh, well, maybe two o'clock?" He said. "We can go have a soda or something." "You already said that bit," Davy whispered, nudging Mike. Mike cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you Davy," he deadpanned. Sarah laughed. "Well, see you at two tomorrow then," she said. "Bye!" She waved and ran back into the building, and Mike and Davy turned and continued their walk back to the pad, talking as they walked.

When they were getting ready to cross an intersection about halfway to the pad, they noticed a group of about five teenagers arguing. They ignored it for a moment, but then one of the teenagers shoved the other. The others laughed and that encouraged the kid to shove the guy a second time. Davy looked up at Mike and sighed. He knew what was going to happen next.

"Well, hey there!" Mike said, walking up to the group. Davy followed. "Now, that's no way to treat somebody! What's going on here?"

The teenagers all looked at Mike as if he had two heads. "Who are you?" Asked one of them, a mean-looking muscle type. "Now, does that really matter?" Mike responded. "Why are you shoving on this guy? That's no way to treat somebody! Ya'll oughta be ashamed of yourselves, shovin' on people, I mean, for cryin' out loud!" As he talked, he pulled the one who'd been shoved away from the group a little ways and brushed off his shoulders. "Now, would any one of you care to tell me what this is all about?"

"And what do you care?" One of the teenagers shot out. "This isn't any of your business!" "Yeah, why don't you shove off?" Added another. "Well, fine, then," Mike said. "I was just tryin' to help." "Well, we don't want your help, cowboy!" The muscled kid said, earning a laugh from the other kids.

Mike seemed to see where things were beginning to head, so he decided it would be best to leave now before things got too heated. "Alright," he said calmly. "Davy, let's go." They began to turn and walk away when one of the teenagers decided to have a little fun and snatched Mike's wool hat from his head. "Hey!" Mike protested, turning back around.

The teens laughed and began tossing Mike's hat around as if they were trying to play a game of monkee in the middle, but Mike just stood there and watched. They got bored soon enough, and the hat came to rest in the hands of the muscled kid. He twirled it in his fingers as Mike said "Now, can I have my hat back please?" The kid smirked. "Why don't you come and get it?" He said, holding the hat out in front of him. Mike looked around at the other teenagers, who were all snickering at their ringleader's antics.

He knew that he could very well be playing into their hands, but he decided to risk it, and walked past them towards the one with his hat while Davy stood by anxiously.

As soon as he reached his hand out to take it, the teen pulled it out of reach and laughed. "Come on, man!" Mike said. "Just give me the hat and we'll be on our way!"

The kid frowned and handed Mike the hat. Mike took it suspiciously, expecting a trick, but the kid let him take it without incident. "Well, now, that's better!" Mike said, turning away.

That was when the kid shoved him. Hard. Mike wasn't expecting that, so he stumbled to the ground, dropping his hat in the process. "Hey!" Davy pushed into the group of laughing teenagers, now thoroughly angry._ Oh no_, Mike thought, trying to get up to stop Davy before it was too late. He wasn't fast enough, however.

Davy wasn't exactly the bravest Monkee of the bunch, and the Monkees weren't all that brave to begin with. But when somebody picked on one of his friends, Davy lost all sense of self preservation in his anger. This time was no exception.

He rushed right up to the muscled kid who'd shoved Mike and looked up into his face. "Wha'd you go and do that for, eh?" He said angrily, his British accent becoming more pronounced due to his anger. "He wasn't doing anything to you! He had his back turned, he was walking away! What kinda coward shoves somebody when their back's turned? I-"

He didn't get any farther than that, because with speed and power that came seemingly out of nowhere, the guy punched Davy right on the eye. "NOBODY CALLS ME A COWARD!" He yelled as Davy fell against a stunned Mike, who had gotten behind him as soon as he had gotten to his feet. Mike caught him and held him up. "Davy!?" He asked. "Davy, are you alright!?"

The other kids were done laughing now. "Whoa, man, you hit him," One of them said. "Well, he called me a coward," The kid said, although he shifted his weight nervously. "Come on, let's get out of here," said another. The muscled kid nodded, and they all took off. One of them stopped and picked up Mike's hat as he ran, but Mike was too concerned about Davy to care much.

Davy groaned. "Mike?" He slurred. "Wha' happened?" "Davy!" Mike exclaimed, breathing quickly. He was scared, although he'd never admit it to anyone. He didn't know what to do, for once in his life, he was completely helpless. They were in the middle of a street about ten minutes away from the pad, it was dark out and there was no way to get help.

"Davy, are you okay, man?" Mike asked. Davy groaned, reaching a hand up and touching his closed eye, which was already beginning to turn purple.. "Feel heavy..." he said slowly. Mike continued to hold up his little friend and chuckled despite the panic he felt. Or maybe perhaps because of it. "You sure _do_ feel heavy," he said, his instincts taking over. "How about you try standing up, d'ya think you could manage that?" Davy put his weight on his legs and Mike let go, only to have to catch his friend as Davy lost his balance and tumbled forward again. "Okay, then, you're not gonna be much help in the walking department," Mike said.

"Alright, let's just get back to the pad, okay? We'll go slowly, you just take your time." He positioned himself so that Davy's arm was around his shoulder, which was quite uncomfortable for Mike, as he had to bend over so Davy could reach.

Davy passed out about halfway back to the pad, and Mike had to carry him the rest of the way. He was surprisingly heavy for such a small man, and by the time Mike had reached the front door of the pad he felt as if he was going to drop the younger man.

He kicked the door a few times in place of knocking, and the few seconds it took Micky to answer the door felt like an eternity.

"Hey man, whatcha knocking for?" Micky asked casually as he opened the door. But then he saw Davy and his eyes grew wide. "Davy!?" He exclaimed. "What happened!?" His words brought Peter over and he gasped as he saw their unconscious friend. "Oh my!" He said. "What'd he do?" "Let me through," Mike said. "He's a lot heavier than he looks!" Micky and Peter backed up and let Mike through. Mike went over to the couch and set Davy down on it, Peter and Micky hovering over him as he did so and asking a bunch of questions.

"Okay," He said, turning around. "Listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. There was a group of teenagers, and I saw one of them shove another. So I went over to find out what was wrong and they got mad at me. One of them shoved me and Davy got mad, so he called the guy a coward, and he hit him."

Micky and Peter were dismayed at the story. "What should we do?" Micky asked. "Do you think we should call a doctor or something?"

"Poor Davy," Peter was saying. "Do you think he'll have a headache?"

"Well, I will if you all keep shouting over me like that," Davy said from the couch. All three of the other Monkees gasped and exclaimed "Davy!" at once.

Davy sat up, rubbing his forehead. "What happened again?" He asked in confusion.

"You got in a street brawl, and somebody knocked you out," Peter supplied helpfully. Davy's eyes grew wide. "I _what!?_" He asked worriedly.

"No, no, it wasn't like that," Mike said. "There was a group of teenagers arguing on the street, and I went over to talk to them, and one of them stole my hat-"

Micky gasped, glancing up at Mike's hatless head. "They stole your hat!?" He exclaimed.

"And then they shoved you," Davy said. "I remember now. I've never been so angry in my life."

"Yeah, well, angry or not, you shouldn't have jumped in there, Tiny," Mike said. "He could have hurt you a lot worse than he did. In fact, I'm not so sure you're fine just yet. He gave you a real shiner."

"What!?" Davy exclaimed angrily. "But I need this face! Where's a mirror?" He looked around, and as there were no mirrors sitting around anywhere, he got up quickly and took a step towards the bathroom.

But before he could make it two steps he let out a low moan and began to fall. Peter, who was closest, reached out and caught him, and after a moment, Davy stood up again.

"I'm alright," he said, catching all the worried glances. "I just got dizzy for a moment, that's all."

He walked the rest of the way to the bathroom, followed closely by the rest of the Monkees. When he reached the door, he turned to them. "I don't want you all hanging over me," he said. "I'm just fine, I can handle myself. So stop worrying!"

With that, he closed the door, and the other three Monkees looked at each other before turning and going their separate ways. They didn't stop worrying, however. Micky sat on the couch and fidgeted, glancing toward the bathroom every few minutes, while Peter began to pace back and forth in the kitchen area.

Mike was feeling especially guilty. This was all his fault, after all. If he hadn't confronted the group of kids, then Davy would never have rushed in to defend him, and he would never have gotten hit.

They all looked up as Davy came out of the bathroom, looking sulky. He walked over to the kitchen and got a towel. Then, filling it with ice, he held it up to his eye and sat down next to Mike, who sat quietly for a second.

Finally, he couldn't take any more, and turned to Davy. "Now look here," he said. "I'm sorry about all this, and I'm sorry if you don't like to hear it, but I feel terrible about what happened!"

"Mike, calm down," Davy said, looking up at him through his one good eye. "It isn't your fault, I jumped in without thinking, and you know what? I'm glad I did it!"

"Now, don't say that," Mike said, but Davy cut him off before he could start a speech.

"I am!" He declared. "And I would do it again! No one shoves you and gets away with it, not as long as I'm around!"

"But they _did_ get away with it," Micky pointed out. "They stole Mike's hat and gave you a black eye."

Davy sighed. "I'm sorry about your hat, Mike," he said. Mike shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I still have the blue one."

"But the green was was your favorite!" Davy said. Mike sighed.

"Don't try to change the subject," he said. "I don't like that you got hit, Davy, and I want you to understand that. Please, promise me that you'll be more careful, promise me you won't do something like that again. You scared me half to death!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Davy exclaimed angrily. "Stand by and watch as they hit you instead? You know that was the next step, Mike!"

Mike blinked. He hadn't really thought much about what could have happened to him, he'd been too concerned about Davy.

"Okay, how about this," he suggested. "I promise to try not to get into any more street fights, and you promise that if I do, you'll try not to get involved." Davy still looked unconvinced, but finally, he agreed. "Fine," he said. "But you'd better keep to your promise. I might not be able to control myself the next time someone threatens you."

With that settled, Mike breathed a sigh of relief. He still felt badly, but all in all, things could have been much worse.

* * *

It had been a week since the fight, and for the most part, life was back to normal. The night after everything went down, Davy had returned from his date with Della and announced happily that chicks dug a guy who'd been injured in a fight defending his best friend. In fact, he was slightly disappointed when the swelling started to go down and the color faded back to normal.

Mike still felt a little bit guilty, but as the black eye faded, so did his feelings of guilt.

He had been wearing his blue wool cap almost every day since his green one had been stolen, and he could tell that Davy still felt guilty about that, although there really was no reason he should, it wasn't his fault at all.

The two of them were hanging around the apartment, Mike was picking up around the house and Davy was trying his hand at making a souffle, and failing spectacularly, when the door was banged open and Micky came in, struggling under the weight of Peter, who was leaning on him heavily and rubbing his jaw.

"Peter!" Davy exclaimed, abandoning the souffle and running towards the door behind Mike, who was staring at them in horror. "What happened!?" He asked.

Micky smiled, although obviously worried. "Well," he said. "We were on our way to the supermarket, and we saw a guy walking around wearing Mike's hat. So we went up to him and I asked him for it back, and the guy said no, he'd found it, so it was his now."

They made their way over to the couch and sat down and Micky continued talking. "Peter asked him where he'd found it, and he said he'd won it. Then he started bragging about punching Davy, so Peter hit him!"

"He what!?" Mike asked, eyes wide. Behavior like that was so unlike Peter, he could hardly believe that he'd done such a thing.

"Yeah!" Micky said as Peter nodded slowly, still rubbing his jaw and looking dazed. "I was shocked!" Micky continued. "Of course, it didn't really hurt the guy, it just made him mad. So then he punched Peter, and he got caught, and the police came, and everything got sorted out. And guess what?"

Micky grinned and pulled something green out of his pocket.

"We got your hat back!" He said, tossing it to Mike, who fumbled to catch it. He was still stunned by what he was hearing.

"Fellas," he said desperately. "This is getting out of hand! We need to stop this before somebody gets seriously hurt!"

Micky looked crestfallen. "But, we got your hat back," he said. "And aren't you always telling us to stand up for ourselves?"

"Well, yeah," Mike admitted. "But there's a difference between standing up for yourself and getting into fights in the supermarket. Now, I've learned my lesson, I realized that I can't get into anything without dragging all three of you down with me. I promise, I won't get into any more fights. Now please, stop fighting on my behalf! I know you're trying to help, but really, you guys are stressing me out!"

Davy chuckled. "Alright," he said. "I promise." Micky still looked disappointed, but he agreed too. "Fine," he said. "I promise."

"Thank you," Mike said. "What about you, Pete?" He asked, turning towards Peter. But Peter was asleep. Mike laughed. As upset as he was with himself for starting this whole affair, he had to admit to himself that he was proud of Peter, and Davy, for standing up for him.

It felt nice to have friends who tried to take care of you, even if they went about it in the wrong way. "Alright," he said, turning towards Davy and Micky. "Davy, go get a towel with ice in it. Micky, stay here and make sure Peter doesn't fall over if he tries to stand when he wakes up."

He turned away, only to have Davy call after him. "And where are you going?" He asked. Mike smiled. "I'm going to go for a walk, alone," he said. "And I'm gonna try to clear my head. You all are gonna be the death of me!"

Micky and Davy looked concerned, and Mike laughed. "Don't worry," he said. "I won't get into any fights. I've learned my lesson, you don't have to worry about me."

With that, he left and went to walk on the beach. As worrisome as this whole ordeal had been, he couldn't help but feel glad that it had happened. It was situations like this when you found out who your friends were.

And Mike had three of the best.


End file.
